Things I Hate About You
by One-shot.Dump
Summary: I hate a lot about you. I really do, you know. I hate your friends. I hate your house. I hate your family. But I can't bring myself to hate you.


I hate a lot about you. I really do, you know.

Your friends really get on my nerves. Not that I'd call Crabbe and Goyle friends. They're just so stupid. I would almost assume that they were inbred. They just follow you, following orders. They don't seem to have even a single brain cell between them. What I'd give to get rid of them.

While I'm on that line of thought, your entire house is irritating. They all look up to you and listen to you like you are some sort of leader. Like you're some sort of prince. They follow your stance on things. They don't question you. They really shouldn't do that.

I hate your family. They hate me too, and want to kill me, so it's not much of a problem. I hate the way you always say you're going to tell your father about whatever it is. I hate how your mother always looks like she's in disgust at her surroundings. I also hate Bellatrix, but I won't get started on her, or I won't be done for hours.

I hate your master, Voldemort. The snake-faced bastard killed my parents. He, however indirectly, sent me to the hell hole I call Number 4, Privet Drive. That and the tiny fact that he keeps trying to off me really doesn't help. Neither does the fact that he wants to murder all those I hold dear. I hope Nagini eats him.

I can't believe I forgot about him. I hate your godfather. I hate Snape so much. He hates me too, but only because he thinks I am my father reincarnated. He calls me immature, but he can't see past an old rivalry. I've tried to apologize, for something I didn't even do, but he won't let it go. I wish he would grow up.

I hate your smirk - that god damn, holier-than-you smirk that's always plastered across your face when we pass in the halls. The way you turn up your nose at us all, like we're peasants. I just want to wipe it off your face, _permanently._

You know what else I hate? Your hair. It is always so _perfect_. Even when you have that sleepy, I-just-rolled-out-of-bed look, _the hair is still perfect_. It stays in place after a Quidditch match of all things. It seems to defy all laws of physics – then again, what in the magical world doesn't? I just want to mess it up.

I hate your face. The way it's always perfectly composed. I hate the fact that you show no emotion. It never even flickers in surprise. If I could, I would make you show _something_ besides contempt.

On that note, I also hate your eyes. Damn blue-grey things. They always look like they see more then they should. I hate it when they look at me, and they make me think maybe it was _my_ fault. They look like they're trying to see my soul, and it's nerve-wracking.

I hate your grace. You always strut about, looking like some sort of noble. It makes me sick. It looks like you spend hours perfecting it, yet it also looks effortless. It makes want to watch you hobble in pain.

I hate how you pull me in. I manage to ignore most people's insults, but yours seem to burrow under my skin and fester there. I can't just ignore it. I end up retaliating, and getting in trouble, even though you rarely did. Maybe it has to do with the fact that you always pick fights when we're alone (as in no teachers) or there's only Snape around. Probably.

I hate how when you pin me to the wall, I can't push you off. How I'm helpless under you. How you can set me on fire with a kiss. How I come undone at a few words.

I hate how fighting back never occurs to me. How I will crave your touch. How I'll beg for it, for _you_. How I can end up screaming myself hoarse before long. I hate how I don't hate what we do.

I hate how, despite how vocal I am, the only time you speak is either to command me or to talk dirty, to make me beg. I hate how composed you are as I come undone.

I hate how I'll dwell on it long after we're through. I hate how I'll end up dreaming about it, even day dreaming. I hate how I'll end up freezing in the middle of a fight because a memory of the previous night will jump to my mind.

I hate how it seems like a dirty secret. How I have to sneak out and lie for you, for us, to happen. I hate how my friends give me weird looks every morning, asking where I went.

I hate how my gaze will wander over to you against my will. I'll watch you in the Great Hall. In classes. I even end up watching you in Quidditch matches. No matter how hard I try, I end up looking at you.

I hate how I end up jealous of that little slut, Pansy. I hate how I want to rip her off you when she starts to hand off your arm in public. How I actually _want_ to be in her place.

I hate how cold you still are to me, despite the fact we've been at this for months now. How you still, even in private, put me down, insult my friends and family, and yet I still come back. No matter what you put me through, I don't turn away.

Most of all, I hate how I don't hate you. I hate how I want you. How I'll miss you during the summer. I hate how I long for you. I hate how I crave you. I hate how I want you. I hate how I love you.

I hate how I love you so much, but you will always hate me.


End file.
